


Love

by A Crimson Phoenix (cw151)



Series: Clintasha One-Shots [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath, Comfort, F/M, Patching Each Other Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:13:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cw151/pseuds/A%20Crimson%20Phoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of New York, Clint and Natasha patch each other up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of fanfictions have been written on Natasha's "Love is for children" declaration. 
> 
> I'd like to think that most of what Nat said during Loki's questioning was manipulation, so here's my take on what was going on in Tasha's head when Loki asked "Is this love, Agent Romanoff?"
> 
> Enjoy! :)

They showered in silence, working hand in hand, passing the shower gel back and forth - who knew their skin could be covered in so much grime?- and Natasha helping Clint wash his hair to save his shoulder. After surveying each other's bodies, both were relieved to find that Clint's knee and shoulder were the only major injuries; everything else was just scratches, even the patches of Clint's uncovered skin that had come in contact with the glass shards. After toweling herself off, Nat wrapped a towel around herself, closed the lid of the toilet seat and motioned for Clint to sit down. She opened the med kit she’d swiped from one of the rescue units earlier and got to work, firmly bandaging Clint's swollen knee. Once she was done, she carefully prodded Clint's shoulder.

 

"It's dislocated," she said quietly.

 

Clint nodded and braced himself. Natasha relocated his shoulder in one quick motion. It popped back with a soft "plop", and Clint released the breath he'd been holding. He massaged the shoulder for a few moments as Natasha put the med kit back together. She then reached for the lower arm of his uninjured side and helped Clint get up without putting too much weight on his bad knee. They stood facing each other, still joined at Cint's lower arm.

 

Up until now, Natasha's face had been schooled into her regular, distanced mask. Now that they were looking directly at each other, though, Clint could see the mask slowly dissolving into a flitter of emotions. He held her gaze steadily as Natasha seemed to fight for control – over what, he could not say. It seemed as if her emotions were only the tiniest part of it. Finally, Nat lowered her eyes and surprised them both by letting go of Clint's arm to wrap both hers firmly around Clint's torso and burying her face in the crook of his neck. Clint swayed slightly to keep his balance on his good leg before hugging Natasha hesitantly.

 

"Thank you for getting Loki off my tail." Her rough voice sounded muffled against the skin of his neck.

"Anytime." Clint's voice was raspy, too. He paused shortly. "You almost gave me a heart attack when you raced towards me on that craft," he said, fixing his gaze on the marble wall behind Tasha.

He could feel her smile faintly against his bare skin. It felt nice. 

"I thought I was going to get a heart attack when I first got on it," she replied, sighing. After a few moments of silence, Natasha took a deep breath and pulled away from him. Clint could feel a chill on his chest where her body had just been pressed against his.

 

He caught her gaze again.

"Thank you for getting me back," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Natasha smirked ever so slightly, the way only she could.

"Anytime."

The moment stretched out as they just stared at each other. Finally, Natasha broke the silence.

"Let's see whether Stark's got some clothes for us," she declared.

Clint nodded and took a step forward, wincing as he put some of his weight on his injured leg.

Natasha adjusted her towel and stepped next to him. Clint put his arm around her and Nat supported him as he wobbled back to the bedroom.

"You should let Medical take a look at your knee tomorrow," she stated as she helped Clint lower himself on to the giant bed. Clint didn’t answer, but Nat didn’t seem to expect a reply either.

"Jarvis, are there any clean clothes near where we are?" she asked.

"Yes, Ma'am. You'll find them in the chest of drawers in this room," was the computer's response.

If Clint was startled by the AI he didn't show it. Natasha rummaged in the drawers and found two Stark branded sweat suits. As she walked back to Clint, she scrutinized his face. Clint's gaze had become distant, and it wasn't difficult to figure out what he was thinking about. Natasha hoped that she could make him forget, at least tonight. Both of them needed rest desperately.

 

They slipped into the sweat suits, Clint once again with Nat's assistance. Afterwards, Natasha went to lock the door, and to push a heavy chest in front of it as well. She threw their dirty uniforms over an armchair, and positioned their weapons within reach of the bed. When she was done, Natasha sat down next to Clint at the end of the bed. He was staring straight ahead, his hands in his lap, knuckles white as he pressed them into painful fists.

Natasha reached over and put one of her hands over one of his. She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand, and ever so slowly, the fist resolved. Nat slipped her hand into Clint's.

 

Clint, however, kept staring at the wall opposite him.

"I don't know how to deal with this. How can I ever -"

His voice was a hollow whisper.

"You'll learn." Natasha replied quietly but firm. "And you're not alone," she added.

Clint's eyes dropped on to their hands intertwined in his lap. Slowly, he let his gaze travel back up until it was fixated on Natasha's face.

"You don't have to do that," he said. Something in Natasha’s guts clenched painfully at the sight of his pained and beat expression that was so unlike his usual, cheery self.

 "I know. But I want to," Natasha replied calmly.

 

Clint kept staring at her. Natasha could almost sense his mind working. He could tell something was shifting between them, and he wanted to know what it was and why. They’d been partners for more than two years now, and they’d been very close for the majority of that time. Sometimes it felt like they were one person, an extension of each other. There were no pretenses between them, just they themselves, as they were. They’d seen the best and the worst of each other, they’d shared beds and showers countless of times, patched each other up even more often than that, and all the while, they’d been a perfect piece of clockwork.

 

Mechanic synchronization based on knowing the other inside out.

 

But recently, something else had snuck into their system. Clint felt it, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It had started slowly several months ago, but today, that strange feeling had multiplied. At first, he had been worried that their perfect team was threatened, but now, it dawned on him that this new shift possibly made him and Natasha even stronger.

 

_"Is this love, Agent Romanoff?"_

_Natasha had almost laughed at his face. Of course it was. Loki seemed to think love was a weakness, just like her trainers in the Red Room. But it only showed that they knew nothing, nothing at all._

_Natasha had never questioned love, even as her trainers in the Red Room had declared that "love is for children". Deep inside Nat knew it wasn't true - perhaps the last remnant of the girl she'd been before the Red Room kidnapped her. All her later experiences only helped to nourish that intuitive skepticism. Nat certainly wasn't the sappy kind, but she quickly realized that love was the strongest force she'd gotten to know in this world. It was the only force that could rival man's other driving force - that of destruction. Once, when she had to kill a boy no older than fourteen by command of the Red Room, his mother had been there to defend him. Even though the mother didn't have any military training, she had almost defeated Nat, driven by her desire to protect her beloved child. Then there was Stefan, who managed to track and almost kill Nat several times in order to revenge his agent girlfriend Nat had killed 10 years ago. Or the simple farmers’ wife she encountered back in Russia who'd managed to develop enough cunning to get her innocently imprisoned husband out of jail. Not to mention the many parents, sisters, brothers, husbands, wives, and lovers in this world who endured hardships like starvation, jail, or torture just to keep their loved ones save._

_When she heard her trainers in the Red Room or power-hungry maniacs like Loki talk about love as if it were an Achilles’ heel, it seemed almost ironic. Because the one thing they did not see was that they themselves were just as driven by love as everyone else. Loki’s hatred of Thor, Odin, Asgard, and really, the entire world, was solely fueled by the fact that Loki felt unloved, that he felt he had no place he truly belonged. He was so short-sighted and focused on his hate that he did not see the immeasurable amount of love his brother and his parents extended towards him, again and again. It was Loki’s denial of the love that made him weak, not love itself._

_If Loki thought love was a weakness, he had just made everything a lot easier for her. Nat had learned early on to be wary if she found herself up against a mark who loved someone directly involved in the mission. Love made people stronger and unpredictable. Loki clearly hadn't come to understand that, making this game easy for her._

_"Love is for children, I owe him a debt," she replied calmly._

_The excited look in Loki's eyes told her that he'd taken the bait._

 

 

“I saw what Loki said to you. He showed me right away when he was still… _in my head_ ,” Clint said, watching her carefully.

 Natasha’s gaze crossed his for a moment before she dropped it on the floor in front of them. A smile grazed her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

 “He thought he could get to me,” she replied curtly, raising an eyebrow but still staring straight ahead on the floor.

 “Didn’t he?” Clint asked calmly. His eyes never strayed from her face. He seemed to look for clues, any clues.

 “No… at least not in the way he thought he would,” Natasha replied after a moment of silence.

 

Clint didn’t pry at that. He cleared his throat.

 

“I should ask Stark for another bedroom,” he said as he sat up a little straighter. “There’s plenty of space around here.”

Natasha’s head whipped around to face him.

 

“No,” she said firmly. Clint raised an eyebrow. “You are not going to be alone tonight.”

 

Clint opened his mouth to protest but closed it again when Natasha stood up abruptly and began to turn down the bed. When Clint didn’t move to join her even as she lowered the blinds on the windows, she fixed him with a firm look.

 

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Clint asked.

“Absolutely. I know you. And I can kick your ass easily,” she stated matter-of-factly. The last sentence was meant as a joke, but neither of them was smiling.

Clint set his jaw and nodded shortly before both of them finally got comfortable in the bed.

 

Both of them knew that it was going to be a long night. 


End file.
